Unborn?!?!
1294 Words
Sunday, 19th February 2017
I lost track of time as I wandered around aimlessly just like the one I saw from a third person’s perspective. I decided to head back home to Knightsbridge in Central London by foot instead. I tried to flag down some cars but they did not stop for me or even take a second look at me since I am dressed just like the rest of the players.
I decided to approach one of the players and asked him how he got into this game and then he looked at me with his head c****d and laughed at me. “You are playing in this game and yet you did not know how the hell you get into here in the first place? Are you for real or not, dude!”
“In the first place, you need to set up an account so that you would be able to login here and then play this game. Sheesh, are you from some fourth world countries that you did not know how you end up in this MMORPG-Popstars!?”
The player retorted and I felt somehow out of place with such a ridiculous question. So I did manage to squeeze my courage and dignity to ask the following question. “Say, do you have a few quids on you so that I could take a tube or metro back to my home in Knightsbridge in Central London? I need to get some gear as well as money from my home and then I could pay you back?”
“Are you freaking out of your mind again, eh dude? We all started off in this game without any money. The place you mentioned is out of the way, dude! Aww, come on. You are still dreaming, aren’t you? You still keep on babbling like as if you did not know where you should start from! It is your parent’s home before you decide to move out and find your place! Oh My God! I am here talking to a complete noobie!”
The player then left me in a huff and I really felt I had hit some low points in my life. I had no other choice but to ask for directions and also to try hitch a ride somehow.
My luck turned better as I had just flagged a milk pickup truck and it slowed down and stopped right beside me.
“Need a lift, lad? Where are you heading to?” An old man with a straw hat peeked out from the passenger's side window and asked and I explain that I had nothing on me and am trying to get back home to Knightsbridge.
“Oh, I am not heading that way but I could drop you off nearer to where you are heading. Come on, hop in. We are holding up the traffic as we talk. We can talk as I drive along.”
The old driver offered me to drive me to someplace nearer that beats walking a distance and I gladly accepted it.
“You drink milk, lad? Here’s a quart. You can have it. You looked pretty tired and haggard from all that walking.”
“Thank you so much, old man. I really appreciate it. I don’t know how come I end up here since I knew this is nowhere near Knightsbridge or Old Brompton!”
“You sure is right, lad. This is Durham Street and I just delivered some milk over to St. Anne’s Primary School. I am now en route to Westminster Cathedral Primary School right across Vauxhall Bridge. I would have to drop you there since I would be heading to Sansbury which is just a street from the MI5 SS Building. You wouldn’t have any business over there, am I right, laddie?”
“I guess you’re right, old man. You may drop me at the gates of Westminster Primary and then I could head on straight from there and I would be at Knightsbridge Greens by half an hour or so.”
“That’s good to hear that, lad. Alright, we would be in Westminster Primary School in about 8 mins. Just sit back and drink that quart of milk. It is on me and don't worry, fresh milk is always great for your mind and body. You are young, so avoid knocking back on grandpa’s syrup, alright?”
It had been so long since I had heard that word. Grandpa’s syrup is another name for an alcoholic beverage. Since I have not started drinking, I think there is no reason why I should be drinking them once more, am I right?”
The old man dropped me just at the gates of Westminster Primary School and I thanked him profusely for saving me from walking all the way here. Even though its midway, but taking a stroll over to the Knightsbridge Green where my father was operating his tailor shop even if it’s the Lord’s Day today.
I was given another quart of milk to drink and it is better than having nothing to drink. I thanked him once again and made my way straight up towards the only street that I had known for years – Wilton Place!
35 minutes later I reached my destination and when I arrived at the shop that my father owned and operated, I was surprised that it had turned into a bookstore! Where is the tailor shop that my father had operated for almost 20 years?!?! It was the Kingsmen Tailor with a fat man in a top hat and smoking a pipe as the logo at the storefront. I wanted to enter and ask but then I had this sinking feeling that it is hard for me to dismiss!
I walked on further and hoping to get some answers when I get home in No. 32 Trevor Place just opposite the Trevor Square. I quicken my pace as I walked past the row of shops and onwards to the residential areas.
I had to cross Trevor Square to get to my house which was the opposite place and when I reached there, I sighed a huge sigh of relief since I saw the same pots of flowers at the window sills and the two pots of money plant that my parents had planted that had grown upwards until it reached my room on the upper floor.
I ran up the stairs two at a time and I knocked on the door. A while later I heard a lady’s voice from inside and it sounded somewhat unfamiliar. The peephole slide was slid aside and the person behind the door was peeking through it as I waved my hands.
“Who is it? What do you want?”
“Momma! It’s me. Matt! Come on Momma, open the door, please. Its been a hard day for me and I want to finally get ome answers from you.”
There was silence momentarily before the security chain was unlatched and the door opened up a crack.
“Who is Matt? I don’t have a son named Matt. Who are you and who are you calling Momma? I am not even married!!!”
I was shocked and my eyes were as wide as saucers and my mouth was wide open that if someone stuff a tennis ball, it would fit right in!
The person behind the door is my Momma indeed but she had not remembered me at all!
IT WAS AS IF I WAS NOT BORN AT ALL!!!
- Writer
